


Ships to Port

by typing_dragon



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Christmas, Fluff, Genderqueer Character, Genderqueer James, James is a good party host and also very in love with Francis, James uses she/her pronouns, M/M, Multi, Other, The gang's all here but not everyone is mentioned, Victorians but minus the homophobia, this is just shameless fluff really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:08:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28552869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typing_dragon/pseuds/typing_dragon
Summary: All is well.
Relationships: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames, John Bridgens/Henry "Harry" Peglar
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Ships to Port

**Author's Note:**

> This is honestly just a tiny ficlet of shameless fluff, I know its late for the holidays but I didnt want it to be forgotten in my drafts so here it is.

"These little cakes are a delight, James. I've never tasted this kind before- a delight."

James beams at the compliment.  It has taken weeks to prepare for this little christmas get together. Well, it needn't have, but what James does, James does properly - and in the case of social events, with a keen eye for detail.  "Thank you!", she chirrups at Dundy on her way past him. So many dear, friendly faces, so little time. She is thriving, though; waltzing from one small group to the next, making light conversation, exchanging compliments - receiving many. For the dress, and the way her hair curls elegantly down to her shoulders, and for the darling earrings that Francis has gotten her.  Her dear Francis.

She finds him towards the back of the room, near the tree, where he seems to be engaged in conversation with John Bridgens and, by association, Henry Peglar.  "Good evening, boys." she greets them as she steps up behind her Francis, resting one hand on his shoulder. He turns towards her as she does, opening their circle to her, adoration in his eyes.  "There you are, darling," h e says this with ease, a smile on his lips. "You must help me, dear, I am entirely out of my depth trying to be a good conversation partner to Mr. Bridgens - on the Greek comedy."

"T _ he  _ Greek comedy, dear?" James exchanges a glance with one perfectly entertained John Bridgens.

"See? I am in dire need."

"You poor man."  Before James can absolve her Francis of his lack of understanding, they are interrupted by an excited shout erupting from somewhere at the center table. Many pairs of eyes fall onto an embarrassed Mr. Collins, who declares, apologetically: "...bingo.", before showing his completed game to a visibly amused Thomas Blanky.

"It is lovely,"  Peglar says as they turn their attention back towards their small group, "to see everyone today."  "Thank you, again, for the lovely invitation.", his husband adds, directed at James.  "oh, it is my pleasure!"  And it really is.

As the evening goes on, James chats here and there, makes sure they have enough food and drink to go around, watches all these dear people talk and laugh. She keeps returning to Francis' side, too, following an internal compass that leads her back to him. Francis seems happy enough; spends a good while chatting with Blanky, then appears to be interviewing Jopson about his new living arrangements. All is well.

Outside the windows, the cold is brushing its long fingers against the glass, and snow tumbles from the sky, draping a still, terrible blanket over the world. But they are inside, and they have it warm, and when James looks around she sees Life itself billow and surge, and she is no longer frozen in place but adrift. From the window to her dear Francis’ arm - her course set for home.

Heavens above, all is well.


End file.
